


Spider-Man Shot?

by alexme7_7



Series: Spider-Man AU [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, questionable first aid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexme7_7/pseuds/alexme7_7
Summary: Michael to the rescue.





	Spider-Man Shot?

The worst part of Jeremy being Spider-Man was the time Michael spent pouring over twitter feeds, police transmission, and news sites, waiting for the worst news. He knew Jeremy had powers now, and he was doing alright so far, but Michael couldn’t shake the feeling that one day he would get a ping in one of his many opened tabs and it would headline the worst possible outcome. 

And because Jeremy didn’t know that Michael knew he was Spider-Man, Michael had no direct line to his stupid best friend who put himself in danger every night. And Jeremy had no one to ask for help. 

Jeremy was running on luck and adrenaline. Michael was just waiting for it to run out.

One night, it did.

Jeremy had been at it for four months now. He still hadn’t told Michael, much to his friend’s annoyance. But it was whatever. He would do it when he was ready, Michael was sure of it. 

It was one in the morning and Michael was casually switching between Spider-Man news updates, police updates, and X-Files on Netflix, eating leftover Chinese food he had snaked from the fridge. Something in the news updates pinged and Michael switched as quickly as he could. It was never anything important, but the notification always still worried him a bit. This time it would probably be another article about how Spider-Man saved a puppy from a burning retirement home. 

The half-eaten spring roll dropped from Michael’s hand.

_**Spider-Man Shot?** _

Those words alone made Michael choke in horror. He read on.

_Spider-Man was stopping a robbery at an ATM machine, when he was shot from behind by a third, previously unseen criminal. No one knows the extent of the damage sustained, but the police did confirm that after he apprehended the three criminals, he appeared to be bleeding, stumbling as he swung away. Spider-Man has not been-_

Michael stopped reading, grabbing his emergency backpack from under his bed and flying out his door, down the apartment steps and into the streets. The backpack had been made up a month ago, filled with bandages and gauze and disinfectant and ointments, anything Michael deemed possibly helpful that he could find at the drugstore. 

His feet took him to the scene of the crime, he knew the place, he walked past that place all the time, it was too close for comfort. Police still lingered around the area, webbing and broken glass scattering the scene and Michael back-tracked slightly, not wanting to look suspicious. He was a 16 year old brown kid out at 1 AM on a Wednesday night, even New York police officers might want to ask him some questions, or worse. He looked to the buildings around the area. 

Michael was probably being stupid. Jeremy had freaky healing powers as far as he could tell, he could be totally fine. He was probably fine. Or he could be bleeding out on some rooftop. Michael swore under his breath, unsure of where to start. 

Before he could move in any direction, something caught his attention. A small noise, making him spin around in fear. Where did it come from? The same noise, but a little louder now. 

The alley across the street!  _No fucking way…_

Michael ran across the street as stealthily as he could, which basically meant he Naruto-ran, holding his breath, hoping for the best.

The noise had stopped and Michael stood at the edge of the dark alley with trepidation. It could just be a major fucking trap. Muggers looking to make a quick buck. What were the odds it was Jeremy, anyways? But then plastic shifting noises came from the dumpster and spurred Michael back into action without a second thought.

The moment he peeked over the edge of the dumpster, his stomach fell and an angelic choir played all at once. Jeremy, in full Spider-Man costume, curled on his side in the small space, surrounded by garbage bags. Holy fucking smokes, he had found him. 

“Jeremy?” Michael called lightly, immediately throwing a hand over his mouth, looking around to make sure no one heard. Jeremy made a small noise of his own, his head turning towards Michael’s voice. But no more movement. That was never a good sign with Jeremy or Spider-Man.

“Fuck,” Michael muttered, shedding his backpack and hoodie quickly before climbing into the dumpster. 

Getting Jeremy out wasn’t exactly easy. Michael was sinking in the garbage bags, trying to steady himself while he grabbed Jeremy by his underarms. His stomach recoiled when he felt a wet stickiness on Jeremy’s arm. It was hard to tell over the rank smell of the dumpster, but Michael could make out the smell of blood this close to Jeremy. He should have called the police officers over, or called 911 or something. 

No, he had this. Jeremy would be fine. Jeremy would be upset if he exposed his identity. Michael couldn’t do that to him. He would check the damage before getting ahead of himself.

As gently as he could, he hauled Jeremy out of the dumpster, dropping him lightly onto the asphalt. Or, he intended it to be a light drop. Jeremy definitely moaned when he hit the ground, and Michael whispered an apology as he vaulted himself out after his friend.

He dragged Jeremy around to the side of the dumpster, keeping them from direct view of the entrance of the alleyway, and he turned on his cellphone flashlight. 

“Shit- fuck-” Michael recoiled at the sight of two sluggishly bleeding bullet wounds in his friend’s arm and thigh. He had never been too squeamish about blood, but that might have changed his mind. The surrounding areas of the costume were soaked with blood, staining the blue and blending with the red. Michael definitely threw up in his mouth a bit.

Hands shaking, he leaned for his backpack. He opened it, and dug through it for a couple seconds before dumping it all out on the ground. His hands hovered over the material, unsure of what to use to help. Another groan from Jeremy and Michael’s hands desperately flew to the gauze.

He moved to Jeremy’s arm first, letting his hands cautiously poke around the wound. Jeremy made a pained noise and swatted at Michael with his other arm.

“The fuck, dude?” Michael muttered, batting away Jeremy’s arm, “I’m trying to help you.” 

Jeremy stilled and Michael went to work wrapping the arm as tightly as he could. The wound seemed to be closing on its own, but blood loss was still a very real fucking issue. He moved on to the leg, winding the gauze tight around the thigh, trying to keep his shaking hands from screwing up. 

Jeremy was starting to move more and Michael’s hands calmed as he tucked the cloth in, hoping it did something. 

He wasn’t trained in first aid. He quit Boy Scouts with Jeremy in 6th grade, after Jeremy almost died from a bee sting. They hadn’t gone over first aid yet. Michael was beginning to regret his decision to quit now. 

But Jeremy was starting to stir and Michael weighed his options. 

He just chose to weigh those options while hurriedly throwing his stuff into his backpack and scurrying out of the alley way. He couldn’t explain it. He just… didn’t want Jeremy to see him? Jeremy had worked hard to keep his identity a secret from him. And as awful as that made Michael feel, he didn’t want to derail Jeremy’s confidence. And maybe he was still holding out on Jeremy telling him… just a bit.

Maybe he was being super selfish, Jeremy could still be injured or he could have already seen him or could have been bleeding somewhere else and Michael didn’t notice… Michael let himself worry while peeking around the corner of the wall.

Jeremy suddenly shot up like a jack-in-the-box, head whipping back and forth, and Michael drew back, pinning himself against the wall, covering his mouth to hide his breathing. He could hear banging, probably against the dumpster, Jeremy moan and cough again, and then some light footsteps. Then, silence.

Cautiously, Michael poked his head around the corner. No sign of Spider-Jere? His gaze floated upwards.

_Thank god._

Spider-Man was shooting a web to a tall building near-by. Michael couldn’t help but hold his breath as Jeremy shot another line, but the swings were small and steady and he sighed in relief.

And then something unexpected.

Michael felt tears well up and start to run down his face before he could stop them. He sank back down the wall and his eyes go wild, his chest heaving.  _Fuck. Holy fuck._  That was Jeremy. He had known it was Jeremy for a while, but Jeremy got  _shot_  tonight. He might have bled out. He could have died.  _Fuck._ The tears kept coming and Michael let his forehead fall to his knees, riding out the built-up panic and fear.

He didn’t know how long he sat there for, but a the sound of a cellphone made his head raise. His phone. He scrambled for his backpack. If it was either of his parents… if they realized that he had left… but it wasn’t, it was… Jeremy?

Michael cleared his throat and hastily swiped to answer.

“Jeremy?” 

“Hey Michael,” Jeremy’s voice sounded tired and low, it could be mistaken for lack of sleep but Michael obviously knew it was more than that, “I hope I didn’t wake you,”

Michael almost laughed, if only he knew.

“Nah, man,” Michael sniffed, wiping at his eyes, “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” Jeremy huffed, muffling a groan, “Just couldn’t sleep. Wanted to talk to you.”

Michael rolled his eyes, like it or not, he was stuck with Jeremy Heere. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought in a comment or hit me up on tumblr at slaygoldponyboy! :)


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